The Devil of DiRisio (4 page)

So, much to Alejandro’s chagrin, that left me to fill in for many of the professional parts, as I was one of the few that could handle the choreography. It must have pained him to have to ask me week in and week out to join the company since he believed wholeheartedly that I did not have the ideal body type for a dancer.

“I have to lose weight,” I told Will. I just had to prove that I could do it. That I was worthy of this scholarship I’d been given.

“You better not lose weight. You’re perfect just the way you are.” Will kissed my forehead but I continued crying. It wasn’t only the ‘fat’ comment I was upset about. It was everything. I wasn’t doing as well as I wanted in any of my classes.

I understood I was no longer the prima ballerina like I was at Ms. Alexander’s studio, but I refused to believe that in a few short weeks I had transformed into a truly awful and uncoordinated dancer. But the way they yelled at me all the time made me think just that. I always did everything wrong.

“I have good news,” Will
said
, trying to change the subject and cheer me up. “Last night in Greece, coach left me in for twenty-eight minutes, and I scored fifteen points. That’s the best I’ve done since I got here.”

Will played professional basketball for the Rome team
Lottomatica
. Money didn’t really matter to him, since he could live a lifetime just on his trust fund alone. All he cared about was playing basketball and being close to me. He eventually wanted to play in the NBA and I eventually wanted to dance with the Russian Ballet alongside Natalia
Karleskaya
, my idol. Lately, Will had finally started getting the recognition he deserved on the team. He was a sensational basketball player. Not that I was an expert or anything, but I knew he would be a star, and soon.

“That’s great, babe,” I said, feigning enthusiasm.

“I also had three rebounds, eight assists and a blocked shot. I think he’s starting to see my potential. I think he might put me in more often now.”

“That’s great, babe,” I said with a yawn as Will continued with the details of his breakout performance in the game against the Greek team. I really wanted to know what went on in his life. I cared about him a lot and I wanted him to be successful, but I was so weak from dancing all day everyday that I fell asleep as he spoke.

I woke up with a start, not knowing where I was.
Will must
have carried me to bed. I looked over and saw him at my side, sleeping peacefully. He looked so cute when he slept. What was I talking about? He looked cute when he was awake. He was always cute. I looked at the clock. It was six forty-five in the morning. Oh God, six forty-five. I had class at seven.

“Will, why didn’t you wake me up? I have class in fifteen minutes.”

“What?” he moaned.

“Get up! You
gotta
take me to the academy. I have class in fifteen minutes.” I jumped out of bed and searched for my clothes. Will didn’t move. “Get up!” I yelled as I slapped him on the back. I ran to his closet and took out a pair of pants and a shirt for him to put on. He still didn’t move. “Will!”

“What?” he yelled.

“I have to go.”

“No, you don’t, it’s Saturday.”

“It is?” Will
groaned
a yes. “Oh,” I said, sitting on the bed. “Sorry.” I was really out of it. Lack of sleep had stressed my mind, making my thoughts fuzzy and incoherent. I tried to concentrate. There was something I needed to do on Saturday. Something important I needed to do. Then it hit me.
“Saturday?
That’s even worse. I have an exam. I have to study. I don’t even have my books. You see? This is why I don’t live here.” Will reached out from under the blankets and pulled me down on the bed.

“Your exam is
next
Saturday. Do you think I would let you forget something like that?” He kissed me and snuggled next to me, falling asleep again in an instant.

I should have been glad that Will remembered the correct date of my exam even though I didn’t, but I wasn’t. It just showed once again that I couldn’t make it on my own. I needed someone else to get me through everything and help me stay organized. For most of my life, my sister Sasha filled that role, now Will. When would it be me?

~ * * * ~

That afternoon, when I went back to the dorms, I saw Joshua carrying out boxes to his car. Olga sat in the front seat with her head in her hands.

“What’s wrong?” I asked after tapping on the window.

She rolled it down and said, “They say I too fat to dance here,” in her thick German accent.

“Oh my God.
Did they ask you to leave?”

“They say lose twenty pounds or leave. I no lose twenty pounds.
It not healthy.
Besides, Joshua
think
I beautiful just like this.” Joshua sat in the driver’s seat then leaned over and kissed Olga’s temple. I had no idea they were even a couple.

“What are you going to do?”

“I got an offer to dance back home in London,” Joshua volunteered. “We’re going to live together until Olga decides what she wants to do. We just can’t stay here anymore. Alejandro has nearly ruined ballet for her.”

Olga started crying uncontrollably in Joshua’s arms.

I felt tears welling in my own eyes. I always cried when I saw other people cry. I just couldn’t stand to see people in pain. Unfortunately, this time I couldn’t tell whether I was crying for Olga or for myself. “I’m so sorry you guys. Best of luck to you, okay?”

Joshua started the car and drove off. As soon as they were out of sight, I looked down and pinched my thighs. Could I stand to lose twenty pounds? I ran upstairs, dropped my bags,
then
stared at myself in the mirror.

Would I always have identity issues? Did it come from my background? All my life, I was never good enough. I never fit in. To the black kids in
Venton
Heights, I was always trying to “act white.” To the white kids at Bridgeton, I was just another scholarship case. The only place I belonged was on stage, warmed by a thousand glorious lights and the
ahhs
of an adoring audience.

And now, here in Rome, the place I had worked toward with every breath in my being, people were once again telling me that I didn’t belong on that stage. It hurt. It hurt worse than constantly getting beat up in
Venton
Heights. It hurt worse than being the target of the Bitch Brigade. It hurt so much I thought my insides would melt away, leaving me nothing.
Because that’s what I was without dance.
Nothing.

I had to do something. Maybe I could stand to lose a few pounds.

I turned around and stared at the reflection of my butt in the mirror. Was it really too big? Black guys liked that. There were several hip-hop songs about big butts. Did
Will
like it? He’d never mentioned it specifically, but Will liked everything about me. That had to include my butt, right?

Convinced I was losing my mind, I shook my head and sat down on the bed. I didn’t need to lose weight and there was no way I was going to starve myself. I knew what real starving was. I remembered coming home from school and only having cafeteria crackers with ketchup to eat for days at a time. There was no way I had escaped the ghetto in order to create some sort of self-imposed emotional poverty. There had to be another way.

Most of Will’s little ticks
didn’t bother me too much. They were harmless for the most part, like his need to carry three green apple Jolly Ranchers in his left pocket at all times or having to flip the light switch three times anytime he entered or left a room. Other ticks seemed more intrusive, like his need to tap on every appliance in the house three times before he left. It was the only way he felt sure they were all turned off.

       Or his need to check his car door every three hours to make sure it was locked. The only exception to the car-checking tick was if he was playing basketball or watching me dance. Those were the only two things that calmed him enough to skip one of his rituals. Logically, he knew none of it made sense, but that didn’t stop his need to do them.

Before we left New Jersey, his ticks had subsided a lot, but I could sense them slowly coming back now. One night at dinner, I noticed how uncomfortable he seemed as he kept checking his watch every ten seconds.

“What’s wrong, babe?” I asked as I spread the unappetizing food around my plate. Even though it was my idea to come to The Spanish Fly, it wasn’t for the food, it was for the dancing. They had an amazing dance floor in the center of the restaurant. Will wasn’t much of a dancer, but I still loved to sit back and watch everyone else have a good time. It was relaxing to watch people dance and not have Alejandro’s voice yelling in my mind about how fat I was.

“I don’t think the car is locked,” Will
said
.

I sighed. Of course the car was locked. I remembered hearing the beep of the alarm system. I felt so bad for Will. I couldn’t imagine the amount of anxiety built up in him. I knew he wouldn’t be happy until he went and checked his car.

“Do you want me to go check for you?” I offered putting my hand on his. I just asked to be nice. I knew he would never accept the gesture. It had to be him or he’d never calm down.

“That’s okay. I’ll go,” he said, hopping out of his seat and rushing out of the club.

I checked my watch as he left.
This ritual could take anywhere from ten seconds to ten minutes depending on how anxious he was.
And judging from the way his hand was shaking when I touched it, he was pretty anxious.

I sat back and stared at the dance floor. I smiled as a couple began an intricate
Merengue
routine. How awesome would it be to have a partner who could keep up with me on the dance floor? I wondered if Will would be willing to take dance lessons for me. I remembered when I tried to teach him how to dance one time back in New Jersey. He ended up falling over and bringing me down with him.

“For you,
Signora
,” a waiter said as he placed a drink on my table.

“Oh, I didn’t order this,” I said trying to hand it back. Instead of taking it, he nodded toward the bar. I turned to see a light-skinned man with an afro and a leather jacket smiling at me. This happened a lot actually. Random drinks on my table from random men. I usually just ignored it. But this random guy happened to be walking over to me.

Suddenly I got nervous. What if Will came back and saw me talking with a strange man? What if the strange man didn’t speak a language I spoke and didn’t understand that I have a boyfriend? And what if …what if … Okay, I completely lost my thought because the man coming toward me was extremely attractive.

“I know you,” he said, sitting down comfortably in the seat Will had just vacated.

“No, I don’t think so.” My mouth suddenly dry, I took a nervous sip of the drink. I almost choked when I realized it wasn’t just a regular coke.

“Sorry, you
no
like rum?” he asked with a thick accent. I’m not even sure what his accent was. I was too lost in his eyes. His eyes were amazing. No, incredible. They were blue, but not just any blue. They were almost turquoise.
Which was odd, because from the afro I thought he would be black.
Then again, his complexion was kind of like caramel. He kind of looked like a blue-eyed Lenny
Kravitz
.

Basically, he was a complete mystery and I wanted to unravel him … I mean
it
.
The mystery.
I wanted to unravel the mystery.

“I don’t drink alcohol,” I admitted setting the drink down and reaching for Will’s water.

The stranger stared at me for several awkward seconds before nodding his head and saying, “Yes, I know you.”

“Um, my boyfriend will be
– ”

“Dance with me,” he said standing and reaching for my hand.

“Excuse me?” But before I could protest further, he pulled me up, spun me around and landed me in a dip.

I was momentarily dizzy and confused, but I knew one thing for sure. This guy knew what he was doing. In about three seconds, he had already proved to be a stronger dance lead than Pierre had in three months.

In a daze, I followed him to the dance floor. Once on the floor, things got even more surreal as he began to spin me around in big majestic circles. The crowd parted giving us center stage.

“Just relax,” he whispered into my ear once he had pulled me close. I felt his hand on the small of my back guiding me across the floor as we danced an impromptu Salsa. I had taken a few Salsa classes before so I knew the basic steps, but the way this stranger and I were able to match each other so well was flat out amazing. People worked for weeks to get this kind of coordination. Somehow, I could sense his next step before he took it and he could anticipate the music and spontaneously create the perfect choreography. It was like a scene out of a movie, the way we captivated everyone’s attention.

“Who are you?” I asked as we continued to light up the floor.

“
Shh
. Don’t
talk
. Just dance.”